


friday; future

by fightingtheblankpage



Series: Allydia Week [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightingtheblankpage/pseuds/fightingtheblankpage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you sometimes wonder how did we even get here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	friday; future

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a part of the Allydia Week challenge.

“Do you sometimes wonder how did we even get here?” Allison asks.

“By bus,” Lydia says curtly, and there’s no bite to her tone, like she’s _not even trying_.

Mercifully, Allison doesn’t push it, so Lydia reaches out and tugs her closer by her jacket pocket, until Allison is standing right beside her, and Lydia can push her gloved hand all the way inside the pocket. Allison’s fingers curl around hers, and she does that thing that must hurt her spine, where she leans sideways, conquering the height difference, until she can rest her cheek on Lydia’s shoulder.

The tips of Allison’s curls – shorter now than they used to be – are silvery-white with frost. It’s _that_ cold – hair-frosting cold; Lydia thinks about the time when Allison’s hair will be coloured like that because of years, not because of the weather.

Lydia used to fear time. Time steals things away – your beauty, and the spring in your steps – but now Lydia doesn’t have the feeling of moments slipping through her fingers. She awaits each one eagerly, because her life is a surprise of the best kind: with her wife at her side, and their son playing in the park, and even her job where people can appreciate her sheer genius. There is no stealing – just giving.

“I think,” Lydia says slowly, her eyes following their son’s colourful, terribly tasteless woollen hat (courtesy of Grandma Martin) through the snow, “you were very stubborn.”

“Stubborn! _Me!_ ” Allison scoffs. Lydia doesn’t have to crane her neck to know that Allison is smiling. She knows the curve of her lips, and the blushed apples of her cheeks, both by sight and by touch – again, those things come with time.

Other couples may finish each other’s sentences, but Lydia and Allison can plant thoughts in the other’s head. That’s how Lydia knows that Allison is thinking back to that one occasion when Lydia visited her in college. Well, she visited her many times, but that was sort of special for them.

***

Lydia was sleeping on a mattress on the floor – not because Allison was a bad host; the mattress was actually more comfy than the capricious bed – and Allison was on the bed. She was turning and wriggling around, which was understandable with the number of springs digging into her back, or stomach, or side.

“Are you asleep?” Allison whispered into the darkness.

Lydia wasn’t, so she mumbled something along those lines. Allison decided it’s not really an answer, though, so she reached over, stretching out her long fingers to nudge at Lydia. Lydia eyed them suspiciously – she’s usually annoyed when sleepy – and grabbed at Allison’s hand, determined to make her fall off the bed.

Something possessed Allison, or Lydia just hadn’t thought it through. Either way, the next thing she knew, Allison was _pulling her into the bed_ instead of _falling out of it_. And, well, when you find yourself suddenly splayed all over a girl like Allison, who is grinning in the dark, you can tell she’s grinning, because you hear it in her breath – you go for a kiss.

Lydia went for a kiss.

Allison went for more.

***

“This is the official story,” Lydia says, nuzzling a bit closer. It’s cold, that’s all, she isn’t shamelessly dependant of Allison’s cuddles. “The one we’ll be telling our son when he asks.”

Allison smiles again, and presses that smile into Lydia’s hair, along with a kiss. “We could knock The Talk off the list in one move, though,” she notes.

“We’ll tell him it’s because you’re stubborn,” Lydia says decisively, “not because of your disturbing upper body strength.”

Allison huffs out a breath of indignation – a warm cloud in the chilly air – and Lydia goes for a kiss.

Allison goes for pushing her into a snowdrift.  


End file.
